Temporitis
by Mark Geoffrey Norrish
Summary: AU from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, where Harry has an accident with an exploding clock and begins randomly hopping through time. Short-distance jumps, backward and forward, stable time loops. It makes more sense on the second read-through.
1. Prologue

_From Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix:_

_Harry had not realised how noisy the lifts were on the day he had come with Mr Weasley; he was sure the din would raise every security person within the building, yet when the lift halted, the cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift._

"Hey, do any of you smell smoke?" Ron asked, sniffing.

"Ssh!" Ginny hissed, holding up a hand. The others looked around alertly, and a moment later, they could hear voices from the other side of the door.

"Shouldn't we be looking for him?" asked a rough male voice.

"No, Mulciber," came Lucius Malfoy's long-suffering voice, "we're guarding the exit, so that he can't escape. The others will track him down."

"Don't see why everyone else should get the glory," Mulciber replied.

There came a sharp crack and a cry of "Ow!"

"That's why," Malfoy said.

Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve. "It sounds as though Sirius has got loose somehow," she said, keeping her voice low enough that they wouldn't be overheard in turn. "Does this change our plan?"

"I don't think so," Harry whispered back. "Everyone, if you disarm a Death Eater, keep their wands so we can give one to Sirius when we find him. I don't think we'll be able to do this stealthily; but maybe –"

The grilles of the lift clanked shut behind them and it began rising. Neville hit the button to call it back, but nothing happened.

"Who's behind us?" he squeaked, looking up the shaft at the slowly rising elevator bottom.

"There must have been a sentry under an Invisibility Cloak," Harry said.

Ron looked around. "Harry – what if they come down here? There's no cover; we'll be sitting targets."

Harry looked at the lift, then turned back to the door.

"There are hiding places inside," he said. "We go forward. On a count from three, we blast open the door and volley Stunners at everyone on the other side. Three … two … one … _Reducto! Stupefy!_"

Under the weight of six combined spells, the door shattered to pieces. The two Death Eaters were facing away from them, and three Stunners hit one in the back; the other three missed, and the second Death Eater dropped to the ground, his wand out and a shield springing up.

"_He's here!_" he shouted; it was Malfoy. "_In the entrance, and he's brought reinforcements!_"

Harry charged through the doorway, jackknifed left, and threw an Impediment Jinx; Malfoy turned his shield to block, and it bounced off into the ceiling. Ron, a moment slower than Harry, ran right and hexed Malfoy square in the back.

"_Accio wands,_" said Ginny; she caught both from the Death Eaters, pocketed one and gave the other to Ron.

"_He's_ here?" Hermione repeated, looking around. "No, he's not."

"Maybe they mistook Neville for Sirius?" Luna suggested, peering at Neville. "He didn't really have time to get a very good look. Neville, you wouldn't happen to be a singer, would you?"

There came the clatter of running boots from all directions. Harry took in the room with a glance. It was large and circular, and completely black. There were a dozen doors around them, plus the hole behind, lit by light from behind and blue torches on the walls.

"Harry," said Ron, "we'll be surrounded here. We'll have to –"

A door opposite them slammed open; two masked and hooded Death Eaters ran through.

"_Artirex!_" shouted one, and hit Hermione in the gut with a narrow white beam; she fell without a sound.

"_Impedimenta!_" Ginny shot back, missing by inches; Luna and Neville began duelling the other. Ron glanced back, and settled on helping Ginny.

More would be on them in moments from all sides, Harry knew. He ran over to the nearest door and threw it open: no Death Eaters. He ran back and dragged Hermione to the next room.

"Everyone!" he shouted. "In here, come on!"

Another two Death Eaters burst into the round room, and then two more; Luna ran after Harry, bleeding from the nose and firing inaccurately over her shoulder, followed by Ginny, who dodged an indigo sphere which threw sparks where it hit the wall, then Neville and Ron, both unhurt. Harry slammed the door shut and Transfigured the knob's catch into a blob of fused metal; a moment later came the thud of a heavy body ramming into it.

"They're in the Time Room! Quick!"

"Potter didn't have the prophecy," said another. "I'm sure of it. Maybe he's hidden it somewhere?"

"He might have doubled back and returned it, or he might have given it to one of the others. Keep him and at least one other alive, and we'll make him show us where it is."

Harry was only half listening to them. Hermione's eyes were shut, her face contorted in agony; she was breathing shallowly, and bleeding badly through her robe. He tore it off; there was a hole in her stomach, a quarter inch across.

"Oh no," he said. "Oh no, oh no. Does anyone here know anything about healing?"

Ron was kneeling next to him, looking just as lost and helpless. There wasn't room for more to cluster around; Ginny and Neville were standing guard against the next attack, wands out; Luna was looking at a grandfather clock as though it were a museum piece, even as blood dribbled down her chin. The room was filled with timepieces, all quietly ticking away, some chiming, some tinkling. There were clocks, hourglasses, sundials, models of the Earth and Moon or the Solar System, and things he couldn't even describe, but all seemed to measure time somehow. It would have been lulling under other circumstances, but they could hear shouts, incantations and running boots from all around.

"I think you're mostly supposed to use potions," Luna said without looking around, "but we don't have any of those, so I suppose make a bandage from her robe? I hear hair works well, too, and she does have lovely hair."

From their right came distorted shouts and the noise of spellfire. Harry frowned. They hadn't been separated; who were the Death Eaters fighting? Sirius? If it was him, it sounded like he was putting up a pretty good fight for someone outnumbered at least nine to one and unarmed.

"Guys," Neville said nervously, looking down, "there's blood here, on the floor. Maybe Sirius is –"

A door behind Luna burst open, admitting four Death Eaters. She spun and raised a shield; a Cruciatus Curse punched straight through it, tagging her wand arm, and she fell, screaming.

"No!" Ron shouted. In one motion, he turned, stood, and aimed his wand. "_Stupefy!_"

He hit one of the Death Eaters; two others dodged and began duelling him, Ginny and Neville. Harry stood up and hit the one holding Luna under Cruciatus with an Impediment, but a moment later, four more came in from a door on his right, and one immediately hit Neville in the back with a corkscrewing red curse.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Harry shot back, hitting one, and sprinted toward the remaining three, leaving Ron and Ginny to deal with the first two. "_Reducto!_"

The Reductor hit one's wand, blowing it in half. "Aah! That was my _wand_, you little piece of –" The Death Eater ducked down to retrieve his fallen companion's wand; Harry dodged one bright orange curse and shielded another. "See how you like blasts, _Bombarda!_"

"_No!_" shouted the two Death Eaters beside him. One grasped at his hand to deflect the curse, but was too late. Harry stopped a moment short, and the curse hit a cuckoo clock on a table beside him. A barrage of splinters and wooden shrapnel tore through his robes and into his chest and face. The battle seemed to pause for a moment as he looked down at himself and blood began oozing out of twenty wounds.

"Oh, that isn't good," he said, and everyone else vanished.

He blinked. The room was full of serene ticking again. The doors were unmarked and shut. There was no sign of anyone but him; no bloodstain where Hermione had lain, no debris from the wand he'd just blown up. He looked down at the cuckoo clock that had just exploded; it was intact and ticking away.

The time on it read fourteen minutes to eight. He glanced around; the other timepieces he could read all agreed. He hadn't been paying the closest of attention, but he was sure they had read about ten minutes past eight just before.

_Oh_, he thought, _time turning. Right._

A few droplets of blood spattered on the floor. He gingerly touched a hand to his breastbone, and it came away wet, but the wounds weren't actually so bad. The splinters kept them plugged up, and they were small enough to be clotting and scabbing over already.

He looked back up. If he had gone back in time, maybe he was the one who helped Sirius escape in the first place?

A giant crystal bell jar caught his eye at the far end of the room; inside was a tiny egg, which hatched into a hummingbird and flew up on a shining wisp of air, and fell back down and back into the egg, and again and again. It shone just as he had seen in his dream: he was close. He picked his way past the desks and clocks, past the jar, and to the door just beyond.

It opened to the room he'd dreamt of. There were endless shelves of spun glass spheres, glinting gently in the torchlight, under the ceiling as high as a cathedral's. Very quietly, Harry closed the door behind him and looked around. The nearest shelf was numbered 53. He checked the one on the left, 52, and went right, his heart racing, padding as quietly as he could.

There were no Death Eaters in sight, and no Voldemort. He went over events again. He came, they were attacked, he was blasted back in time, got Sirius, and then hid somewhere. Why were there no Death Eaters here, standing guard? Maybe Voldemort only summoned them after he saw Harry.

Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven. No Sirius, no Voldemort. No blood, no debris from missed spellfire. No discarded clothing, no messages written in the dust. Nothing. A little voice in Harry's head suggested that maybe Hermione had been right, maybe he'd been tricked. He quashed it and kept looking.

He checked the shelves. They were covered in dust, signalling years of neglect, except for one, which had a few fingerprints around one little glass orb. There was a thin layer of dust in the fingerprints, too, as though they were at least months old. The orb had his name on it.

Feeling as though he was doing something he really shouldn't, he reached forward and wrapped his fingers round the orb and lifted it up to get a better look. It was warm, as though the inner light were from a small fire, and sparkled in his hand. There came the sound of footsteps; he spun, raising his wand.

"I'm legitimately impressed, Potter," came Lucius Malfoy's voice. He was at the head of four Death Eaters, shining wandlight in his eyes. Harry backed away, and glanced over his shoulder. There were more behind him, too. "How did you get past our Sensor Charms without – what in Merlin's name happened to your face?"

Harry wiped off some blood with the back of his forearm. "None of your business."

"Learn your _place_ –" said one Death Eater with a scraping female voice, drawing her wand back for a curse, but Malfoy snapped his fingers and she cut off.

"If you prefer," he said easily. He came to a stop not five feet from Harry, who backed up against a shelf so he could keep both knots of Death Eaters in view. "What is my business is that prophecy. Give it to me, Potter."

Harry glanced down at the orb.

"To me," Malfoy repeated.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.

The Death Eaters laughed as though he'd told the world's funniest joke. "The Dark Lord always knows!" said the woman.

"That blood traitor is exactly where you last left him, I daresay," Malfoy said. "The prophecy. Now."

"I dreamt he was here," Harry said.

The Death Eaters laughed again. "_I dweamed my dogfarder was wiv the pwophecies!_" crowed the woman.

"He won't be here to save you this time, Potter," Malfoy said. "Now. The _prophecy_."

"I – wait," said Harry, sweeping his wand from left to right. "That was a false image sent to lure me here. So I would get this – prophecy – and give it to you. But then –"

And he realised.

"Oh," he said. "Not Sirius, me … they lose sight of me … but then, the only thing is to do as much as I can, so the others will have a chance … Hermione might not get cursed, and we might hold together a bit better …"

"What are you blathering about, boy?" Malfoy asked.

"This," Harry replied. "_Accio!_"

He aimed at the top of the shelf opposite, and it swayed forward and overbalanced. Prophecies rained out of it and began smashing and talking over one another, as the shelf toppled down.

"No!" Malfoy shouted. "Stop it! _Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Most of the Death Eaters followed him, holding the shelf up, but Harry wasn't done. He hit it with a Blasting Charm and two Fire Charms, before someone shot a curse through his leg. He fell with a scream, onto a pile of broken glass.

He yelped and pulled his hands away, but they were already torn and bloody. He dropped his wand and the prophecy, which slowly rolled away.

"Harry?"

He glanced around again. The Death Eaters were gone. Three ill-matched people were there instead: Mad-Eye Moody, Shacklebolt, and Luna. The floor was covered in broken glass; the shelf opposite had large holes in it and long scorch marks. Most of its orbs were missing.

"I," he said. "What?"

"Said you'd be showing up right about now," Moody said, indicating Luna with a jerk of his head. "Talked our ears off until we let her stay. Still hasn't told us how she knew."

"Yes, I did," Luna said. "Harry told me."

Her nose was healed and cleaned. He noticed her right hand twitching every few seconds, and she wore Neville's watch around that wrist. She reached down, picked up the prophecy with her left hand, and put it back in its place on the shelf.

"I did?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she said. "You don't remember because you haven't told me yet."

Shacklebolt shot him a sympathetic look, then crouched down beside him. "Good show, Harry," he said. "You look like hell, though. Let me help with that."

He Summoned the fragments of clock from his chest and face and the glass from his hands, then charmed the wounds shut. He looked at the hole in his leg more closely and frowned. It had hit his calf and gone all the way through, bleeding from both holes.

"Mm," he said. "This looks Dark. It'll fester if you leave it for long, but for now …" He conjured a bandage to stem the bleeding and a splint.

He tested it; good as new. "Thanks, Shacklebolt."

"It's the least I could do." He turned to Luna. "Take him directly to Madam Pomfrey."

"I'll take him back now," said Luna, and she offered Harry her hand. "Shall we?"

He accepted it and they walked off.

Aurors were standing around, waving their wands and apparently looking for evidence. A few made to approach Harry and Luna but checked themselves.

"So," Harry said, as soon as they were out of anyone's earshot, "what's going on?"

"You were hit by an exploding time engine," Luna explained. "You've been hopping around the time stream. You've jumped twice so far, haven't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "How did you know?"

"Oh, you told me earlier," she said airily. "You also told me you'd jumped twice more after now, so I think I have to trust that you did go straight to Madam Pomfrey earlier. You looked like you would."

Harry scrunched up his face, trying to parse this out. They passed into the time room; witches and wizards in thick alchemy smocks were sweeping up bits of damaged clocks into dustpans, and paid them very little mind.

"The time is twenty-four past nine," Luna said, looking wistfully over the clocks. "I wish they'd let me look around here. I haven't been allowed to do much for the past hour or so."

"Luna," he said, "what happened? I was there in the Time Room, then I went back and came here, and …"

"I think you go back and get some of those Auror people to come and help us," she said. "I'm not sure what the fourth hop will be for. They came and fought them, then You-Know-Who and Dumbledore came and he beat him."

"Slow down," said Harry. "Which of them won?"

"Also, you should make sure to bring a vial of Contraction Concoction," she went on. "It's very easy to make, you just boil a handful of troll glue, two occamy scales, and a fwooper feather for half an hour." She reached into a pocket, pulled out a lime green feather and offered it to him. "Professor Dumbledore said you probably wouldn't have one, they're quite rare around here."

Harry dumbly accepted it. "Thanks?" he said. "Luna, I still don't get what's going on."

"Don't worry, Harry, you'll get the hang of it," she said. "Did you know that some of the Hogwarts ghosts can travel through time?"

Harry made a mental note to check that with Hermione before believing. They passed out of the Time Room and into the circular black room, where two handymen were trying to coax splinters of wood back into a door without success. They passed by, went up the corridor, and got into the lifts. For some reason, the lift they'd come down in was gone, replaced by a smaller, rather ugly one of cast iron.

"Is Hermione alright?" Harry asked.

Luna looked into his eyes without blinking. "That's up to you," she said. "I could tell you the truth, or I suppose I could lie, but I think you might not try your hardest if you think it's set in stone."

"But," he said, "it is set in stone. From your perspective, either she's alive or she isn't."

"Yes, but that will change if you act differently," Luna said.

"But I won't," said Harry. "You can't change the past, even with time travel."

"Yes, you can," Luna said. "You just wouldn't remember because it was already changed when you got there."

Harry frowned, trying to work this out, and the doors clanged open to the Atrium. More Aurors were standing around, discussing things in low voices, and eyed them as they passed. Luna led Harry toward one of the fires, which had been relit and was burning green.

"Mind you get someone to fetch Professor Dumbledore," she said. "He really was quite good. Also, mind he opens with a golden spell, and aims left."

"What?"

"A golden spell, aiming left," she said. "He'll know what I mean."

"This _does_ work out, doesn't it?" he asked helplessly.

She smiled at him. "I think so. As long as you act wisely. Make sure you go through _before_ you hop; the fire wasn't lit when you will land, I think. I'll see you in a minute, although I don't think you'll see me for a while. Oh, and one last thing. Shut your eyes."

"Er," said Harry.

She smiled at him. He shut his eyes. There was a light pressure at his side, of Luna sliding something into his pocket.

"You can open them again," she said. "That's something I borrowed from Sirius earlier. Don't look at it until you lose your wand. Professor Umbridge's office, Hogwarts." And she walked into the fire and vanished.

"When I lose my wand?" he repeated, and shook his head. He didn't understand what was going on, but she apparently did. He fingered his pocket; the object was long and rigid, but something kept him from investigating further. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," he whispered, and stepped in.

Tonks was lying on the sofa, a mostly-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in hand and a party hat tied to her head. There was the babble of conversation from the room over, including several voices discordantly singing along to the Weird Sisters on the wireless. When Tonks saw Harry, she took out a party horn and blew it.

"Fwee!"

"Tonks?" Harry asked dubiously.

She spat it out and smiled. "'Cher again, Harry. So are you here to celebrate, or are you going back to Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Er," said Harry.

"Awesome," said Tonks. She held out the bottle. "Have a drink."

Harry eyed it sceptically. "I think that's probably a bad idea. I'm underage. And I'm going to need a clear head in a minute."

"Go on," said Tonks, pushing the bottle into his hand, "just a little. 'Snot enough left t'make you even tipsy."

"I really think this is a bad idea," said Harry.

"Today, Harry," Tonks slurred, "is a great day. A great day for many things, eshpessally Firewhiskey."

Harry frowned, but she didn't look like relenting. "Well … I guess I don't have anything to do while I wait for the next hop." He drained the bottle. There was only half a mouthful left; it seared his throat as he swallowed, leaving a trail of warmth from the back of his tongue to his stomach. "Whoa. Wow."

The room flickered, and the music and voices stopped.

Sirius put down his paperback, sat up and said, "Harry? What on Earth are you doing here?" He laughed. "Harry, how'd you even _get_ here, this is –" He sniffed. "Merlin's pants, did you drink that entire thing by yourself? Harry, it's two hundred and forty proof!"

"What?" said Harry. "No, Tonks drank it."

"Tonks?" Sirius repeated, frowning. "Harry, she's on duty right now. You know, at her job."

"She _will_ drink it," Harry amended. "There's a – there's this time travel thing, later, or maybe earlier – what's the time?"

Sirius blinked and glanced at the grandfather clock. It read twenty-two past seven.

"Oh, good," said Harry, "we have plenty of time, then. Death Eaters attack the Ministry, there's going to be a battle in about forty minutes, I think. Actually they might already be there, but don't move yet, or you'll disrupt the time stream."

"Maybe you should start at the start," Sirius suggested.

Harry briefly outlined his day.

"Just checking, you are sure about all this?" Sirius asked. "No mind magic, this isn't an elaborate prank?"

"No," said Harry, "I gave my DADA professor to the centaurs and fed them to Grawp for a lark."

"Hey, you can't blame me for checking," Sirius said, "I might have at your age." He shook his head. "I'm going to turn that elf into a hat."

"Honestly, I don't blame you," said Harry, "but that's not really the most pressing issue here."

"Right," Sirius nodded, "I'll go rally the troops."

"Make sure someone gets Dumbledore," said Harry, "apparently Voldemort shows up after a while."

"Which of them wins?"

"I think if I tell you, it might mess up the timeline somehow," Harry said.

"Rargh. Fine."

"And tell him to begin with a golden spell, aiming left, and bring a fwooper feather," Harry added, standing up and stretching, "it comes in handy later. Speaking of which, do you have – uh – troll glue and occamy scales here?"

"Yeah, in the kitchen, in the biggest cupboard," said Sirius. "I've been using it as a lab, I was going crazy without having anything to – where are you going?"

For Harry had gone into the kitchen and fetched the ingredients. He filled a pot with water and set it on the stove.

"Hermione gets cursed, and this is medicine for it," Harry explained.

"Huh. What was the curse?"

"I'm not sure."

"What's the potion do?"

"Fix it? I don't know, I've never heard of it before. Luna Lovegood told me about it."

"Lovegood? The family that runs the _Quibbler?_"

"She's the editor's daughter."

Sirius gave him a sceptical look.

The pot began boiling. Harry took out the feather Luna had given him and threw it and the other ingredients in. "Also, I'm going back in there, with you and the rest of the Order."

"Sure, let's send a fifteen-year-old against Voldemort and a dozen Death Eaters," said Sirius.

"As if you haven't done dumber things," Harry replied.

"Not unarmed, I haven't," Sirius said. "_Expelliarmus._" Harry glanced down at his hand in irritation as his wand jerked out of it.

"Sirius, will you _think_ for a moment? If the Order does all the fighting, you'll be too busy to give the Concoction to Hermione."

Sirius was gone. Harry cursed loudly. There came a crash from the next room, and Tonks came in.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, rubbing her shin. "Sirius was looking for you."

"And well he might," he replied. "Do you have the time?"

She checked her wristwatch. "Eight past eight. Sirius is frantic at how long we're taking; Moody made us spend ten minutes doing our anti-imposter protocol. Are you coming?"

Harry turned off the gas and took up the pot with his left hand. The content was a fragrant yellow paste smelling of blueberries.

"Right behind you," he said. He felt around in his pocket for Luna's gift and pulled it out. It was his wand.

While he was puzzling this out, Tonks took his hand and Side-Alonged him to the Atrium. Lupin and half a dozen Order members were at the row of elevators, waiting for one to arrive.

"Hallo," said Tonks, as she and Harry walked up. "Where's Sirius?"

"We didn't all fit," said Lupin, "he's in the first wave." The lift arrived; they crowded in, and someone hit the down button.

They could hear the sounds of battle below; zaps of ionised air, crashes of walls and other objects being destroyed, cries of pain. Harry bounced, anxious to get back down there and catch up to Sirius and help fight the Death Eaters off and heal Hermione. The elevator slowly hummed down. Lupin leant against a wall, humming the Marseillaise. Harry tapped his foot. Finally the floor of the Department of Mysteries came into view.

"Everyone, stay together," Lupin said, "if we get separated, they'll be able to pick us –"

"_Reducto,_" said Harry, impatient with the agonisingly slow lift, blasting the grilles open when it was still three feet above ground; he leapt out, rolled, and took off running, the others right behind him.

The round black room still had the scars of their earlier fight, the blown-out doorways, the chipped walls, the blood smear from dragging Hermione into the Time Room. A moment later, the sealed door was blasted open, trailing orange sparks; through it, he saw himself, a split second before the cuckoo clock exploded, showering him with shrapnel, and he vanished.

This left Ron and Ginny against five Death Eaters. One blindsided Ron with an Impediment Jinx, punting him through a table and smashing it to pieces. Ginny dodged a barrage of curses and ducked behind Luna's grandfather clock, before another Death Eater clipped her with a mass of rope, which twisted around her, pinning her arms to her side and crushing her hand until she dropped her wand.

Harry charged back in, throwing hexes at the two on his left; a moment later, Tonks, Lupin, and the six others were beside him, dodging or shielding against Dark curses and outflanking the Death Eaters. Harry ducked down beside Hermione, covered by the tables and clocks lying throughout the room, and set down the pot beside her. Ignoring the occasional jet of energy flying overhead, he smeared a dollop of the paste onto his fingers, opened her mouth, and wiped it off against her teeth. He massaged her throat; she swallowed, then began coughing.

He started back in alarm. The wound wasn't closing; if anything, it was bleeding harder. Acting more on instinct than rational thought, he got another glob of the Concoction, and pressed it into the wound. It shivered and closed up, the flow of blood slowing to a trickle and stopping; her coughing slowed and stilled, although her face was still pinched with pain.

There was an abrupt silence. He stood up and looked around; the Order had subdued the last of the Death Eaters, who were variously Petrified, tied up, or unconscious. Lupin and Tonks were on guard; the others were reviving one another, repairing torn clothing, or gathering Death Eaters' wands and masks. One began cheering, but Lupin shushed him.

"There might be more lurking around; don't let your guard down until we're back at HQ."

Ron got to his feet with difficulty, bits of table clattering to the floor, walked over to one trussed-up Death Eater, and kicked him in the ribs.

"Oi!" he said. "That curse one of you hit Hermione with. Artirex. How do you fix it?"

The Death Eater coughed and chuckled. "You don't. The Mudblood's dead." Ron kicked him again. "You can only stop it with Contraction Concoction, but it has to be fresh and takes half an hour to brew, and she'll bleed out within ten minutes. There's no way you can get the potion in time."

Harry stood up and threw the pot over; Ron jumped out of the way, and it smacked into the Death Eater's face. "What, that?" Harry asked. "Yellow gunk? Yeah, there's a moral to this story. Never mock Dumbledore's Army."

"Harry?" Ron asked, mouth open, staring. "But – I just saw you get blown up. I thought –"

"Will someone untie me already?" Ginny called.

"I'll explain later," Harry said; Ron nodded and went to help his sister. "Luna, are you alright?"

She wasn't. She was still convulsing from the after-effects of Cruciatus. Harry went over to give her a hand up, but she couldn't stand; her entire right side was spasming.

"Oh, Luna," he said, settling instead for holding her hand. "Does anyone have potions for pain?"

One Order member who had been examining Neville was a witch with a red pentagram over her breast; she hurried over, restored Luna's nose and Vanished the blood, and unslung a rucksack. It was larger on the inside and contained a veritable pharmacy, although no Contraction Concoction. "Did you see what hit her?"

"Cruciatus. It was only held for a few seconds …"

"Cold comfort," said the medic, "Cruciatus is resistant to anaesthetics. I can only dull the pain." She selected a bright pink vial; together, they held Luna's twitching mouth open long enough to pour it in, and when she swallowed, the spasms stopped, except her right arm. "It should fade by tomorrow. Take a sleeping draught."

"Thank you," Luna said, her voice much less ethereal than usual. Shakily, she got to her feet.

"How's he?" Harry asked the medic of Neville.

"I think he was hit by an Oblivion Spiral," she said. "It's reversible, but you'll need to get him to a lab; I don't have everything I'd need in this field kit."

Sirius popped in through a side door. "We found four of them through here," he said. "Any left?"

"Not here," said Lupin, "these are all down. Eight, although Harry and his friends get half the credit. You should leave before the DMLE gets here; none of these is Wormtail, you're not exonerated yet."

"Harry?" Sirius repeated. "You came without a wand? Are you mad?"

Harry held up his wand. Sirius stared for a moment, then pulled its past self out of his cloak and compared them.

"Yes, I know," Harry said. "Hold onto that for me, will you? I'm going to need it later."

"This is so stupid," Sirius said, but he stowed the wand. "Come on, you and your friends should leave too; the Ministry won't be happy that half a dozen schoolchildren broke in here."

He and Harry levitated Neville and Hermione out, the other students following, into the round room and then down the corridor to the elevator, which was partly melted and smoking but still seemed to work fine. The doors whirred feebly instead of closing, but the lift still began rising.

"So, what's going on?" Ron asked.

"Time travel," Harry said. "This was a trap for me; Sirius was never captured."

"But then, who were the Death Eaters looking for, when we got here?" Ginny asked.

"Time travel," Harry repeated wearily. "I know most of this from the future; Luna, I think you work part of it out before then. You meet me in the Hall of Prophecies at twenty past nine and tell me all this. Ask to wait with Tonks and Moody. I'd ask you to come to the Hospital Wing with us, but I think the timeline will break somehow if you don't stay."

"I hate it when it does that," she said, sounding much brighter than earlier, although her arm was still twitching.

"I've jumped four times so far, but you'll see me just after the second," he went on. "Ask that Mediwitch for the recipe for Contraction Concoction, and make sure to talk to Dumbledore when you see him. When you see me, take me up to the Floo fires; they'll still be lit." He reached over, removed Neville's watch, and motioned Luna to let him fasten it to her wrist. "In case you get impatient."

"I don't think I will," she said, "I've always wanted to look around the Department of Mysteries. I do hope they let me wander."

"Er," said Harry.

"Wait a minute," Ginny said, trying to sketch out the timeline in midair and failing. "Huh. I think I need some parchment."

"You can work it out when we get you back to Hogwarts," said Sirius. The lift reached the top, the grilles opened, and Lord Voldemort stepped into view.

"Hello," he said, and zapped Sirius.

Pain blossomed in Harry's scar; he cried out and fell to the lift's floor, Hermione and Neville crashing down on top of his injured leg and smashing the splint. Ron, Ginny and Luna snapped off counterjinxes; Voldemort blocked them effortlessly and drew his wand back for a lethal riposte, then threw himself to the side. A jet of golden light clipped him on the right shoulder, and the arm went rigid, like Hermione had been when she was Petrified three years previously.

"Dumbledore!" Voldemort hissed, prising his wand out of his frozen hand with his left. The Headmaster strolled down the Atrium toward him.

"Hello, Tom," he said. He waved his wand, and a wall of red energy separated Voldemort from the lift; another wave, and the nearest fireplace burst into green flames. "We should have just enough time, I think, for the children to leave before –"

Voldemort didn't bother with banter but spoke with a Killing Curse, which Dumbledore sidestepped with agility beyond his years. They exchanged more curses, and Transfigured the statues and conjured clouds of broken glass –

"Let's go!" Ron said. He picked Hermione up, slung her over his shoulder, and ran for the fireplace; he vanished in a puff of light.

Harry was still reeling with pain from his scar. Ginny took his hand and levitated Neville and dragged them both out of the lift and toward the fire. "Luna, get Sirius."

"Right," said Luna, but her fingers jerked, and she dropped her wand; she bent to retrieve it. "Oh –"

A stray curse smashed through Dumbledore's shield and into the elevator where it exploded in a disc of incandescent energy, just over Luna's head. It melted through the golden bars of the lift, and the floor dropped out of sight, Luna and Sirius with it. A few seconds later came the crash of impact.

Ginny didn't stop, but ran forward into the fireplace, both boys in tow. "Hogwarts!"

… … …

_AN: Expect slow updates; these shenanigans take a lot of planning to choreograph._


	2. Leaving the Dursleys

_AN: If you feel like giving back by reviewing (hint hint) but can't think of anything constructive to write, reviews like "*line* was funny/exciting/insightful/confusing/dull/cliché" are helpful for me without being too much work for you._

… … …

Early in the second morning of the holidays, without the usual pop of Apparition, Harry Potter materialised in the hallway of the second storey of Number Four, Privet Drive. He was dressed oddly, even by wizarding standards. He wore something like a standard set of summer robes, except they had a high collar and were metallic bronze. Atop his head sat a slightly squashed fedora. He held his pyjamas wadded up in his arms. He was barefoot and sopping wet. He shook most of the water off and looked around. He slipped back into his bedroom and checked the bedside clock. Half past five; well before everything happened.

He glanced down at his fitfully-sleeping past self, and then around the room. Hedwig was in her cage, sitting on her perch; she gave him and his past self a scathing look, like _Look who thinks he's so special_. That's right; he had to arrange things with Luna to close the loop.

_Dear Luna,_

_How are you? I remember Madam Pomfrey told you not to exert yourself, but she always tells me that too and Hermione says I never listen._

_I wanted to ask a favour. I just had (or will have) a fight with the Dursleys. I think I've been on edge more than usual worrying about Sirius. Would it be okay if I spent some time at your place this summer, starting now or soon? Not the entire holiday, just a few days. Normally I'd stay with the Weasleys, but Tonks says that's not an option right now. I think I'll see if I can spend half a week with different people from the DA so I don't impose on anyone._

He'd already seen her in the future, so he knew for a fact she'd say yes and wasn't exactly asking her in good faith. He debated adding this, but he still felt guilty about the Ministry. Then, he'd made her spend an hour in a high-security room in order to satisfy causality, and he didn't want to make a habit of inconveniencing her to complete his time loops. If he didn't tell her, it'd be her choice … but he knew the choice she'd make.

It occurred to him that he'd sat there arguing back and forth for five minutes and that he should just hurry and finish the letter already. He'd ask her about her philosophy of time travel later.

_Don't feel pressured if you can't or this is too short notice; I could ask someone else._

_Thanks either way,_

_Harry Potter_

He tied it to Hedwig's foot. "You can get it to Luna, can't you?" he asked her. "She lives near the Burrow."

Hedwig nodded and took off through the open window.

He watched as she dwindled to a speck, and ran back over the timeline in his head. On second thoughts, there was really no reason why he needed to wait. He knew she'd say yes, so why not take the Knight Bus now? He could take it there and wait until Luna got her father's permission for him to stay over, and then tell her not to bother coming over. They could send Hedwig back in her place and prevent the accident from happening, because no matter how much the Dursleys might deserve it, Luna and Tonks didn't.

He put on his shoes, took his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk, wrung his wet pyjamas out and threw them and all his other possessions in, shut it, threw on the Cloak, and dragged it downstairs. The house was completely silent at this hour. Out the front was Mundungus Fletcher, dozing against the hydrangeas. Harry left the door open and unlocked; it'd be just his luck today if he locked himself outside.

To prevent Mundungus from hearing, he walked to the opposite side of the block before taking off his Cloak and flagging down the Bus. The ungainly purple triple-decker careened to a halt just before him, side-swiping a letterbox as it did so.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus," said the purple-uniformed conductor, stifling a yawn, "emergency transport for the –"

"Yes, hello," interrupted Harry. He finger combed his fringe to cover his scar. The conductor wasn't Stan Shunpike; either he'd quit or he worked a different shift. This man was in his mid-thirties but was already balding. "I want to go to Ottery St Catchpole. Do you know where the Lovegoods live?"

"We have them written down somewhere. That'll be twelve Sickles, please, or fourteen for coffee or seventeen for a complete breakfast."

Harry knew from experience that trying to eat or drink on the Knight Bus was generally unwise and handed over only the twelve. The Bus was full of seats rather than beds this time and was almost empty. Harry sat down on one, setting his trunk on the next seat over and stretched. The Bus drove off and, with a BANG, disappeared from Little Whinging. Harry's luggage went with it, but while Harry disappeared too, he didn't go with the Bus.

… … …

It was a quarter past six, when the residents of Number Four, Privet Drive, would normally all be asleep. Vernon set his alarm for seven sharp and always hit snooze when it went off, relying on his wife to wake him properly. As it was summer, Dudley generally slept in until late morning or, sometimes, even the afternoon. Harry was the only natural early riser, but even he generally dozed until at least half past.

Today, though, Dudley Dursley had planned a most amusing prank to play on his cousin. He'd set his alarm early, fetched a bucket from the laundry, and filled it with warm water, and was now sneaking toward Harry's shut bedroom door, moving impressively quietly given his immense bulk. The timbers creaked gently under his weight, but he moved with grace from his boxing and glided down the hall without waking anyone. He transferred the bucket to his left hand, reached out, and gently knocked once on the door. No response: Harry was still asleep. Dudley gently twisted the doorknob open.

Harry Potter materialised behind him. He wasn't silent for long.

"– with a broom?!" he said, waving his hands. He stepped back and turned around, seeing Dudley, who had spun to face him. "Oh. Now again. I hate this part."

"Potter!" Dudley said, hiding the bucket behind his considerable girth. "Didn't know you got up this early. I was just going to go for a run, you know, and Coach says it's good to have weights, so I got this bucket and –"

"Oh, give it a rest," said Harry.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Dudley asked abruptly.

Harry glanced down at his odd bronze robes, tipping his fedora off his head; he caught it and put it back. "It's not cursed or anything," He said, perhaps a little louder than necessary.

"Whuhr?" came Harry's voice from behind Dudley, who spun around. A second Harry was in his bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes and fumbling for his glasses. "Who's there?"

Dudley turned back to the first Harry, who now wore a resigned expression, and then back to the Harry in bed. "_Muuum!_"

A third Harry materialised, this one in his room and wearing his pyjamas. Clutching his jaw, he staggered backward and fell onto the bed.

"Ow, _son_ of a," he began.

"Wait, what?" asked the Harry already in bed, climbing out.

Dudley completely lost it. Letting out a noise somewhere between that of a roaring lion and a dying pig, he dropped his bucket and rushed toward the third Harry. He drew back his fist for a haymaker; Harry dodged to the side, and Dudley instead connected with the second Harry. That Harry vanished without a sound.

"That _really_ hurt," the first Harry told Dudley conversationally.

"What are you doing?!" Dudley demanded. "Why are there two of you?! And where did the third one go?"

"That was my past self," said the third Harry, massaging his jaw and wincing. "I don't get punched again, do I?" he hopefully added to the first Harry.

"No promises," said the first one.

"_What in the blazes is going on here?_"

"I can't deal with this," said the third Harry, shouldering past Dudley, "I can't even deal with _any_ of this. I'm going to get some ice, and –"

Vernon, even wider than Dudley and looking less menacing than usual in his pinstripe pyjamas and nightcap, blocked his path out. "What sort of – of _abnormality_ are you up to now?" he demanded, looking from the first Harry with his odd suit to the second copy of him.

"I should really leave," said the third one, "I think if we stay together we might cause a paradox or something."

"You're not going _anywhere_ until you've told me why there are two freaks in my house instead of one!"

"At the end of last semester," the third Harry patiently said, "I went to – I was out with my people and I was hit with bits of an exploding time machine. I've been hopping around in time ever since. The school nurse called it temporitis, she'd never seen anything like it before, and –"

"Well, why the devil didn't they fix it then?" Vernon shouted, "it shouldn't be allowed, being around decent people like us with your kind's diseases!"

"It's not a disease," the first one snapped, "it's a condition. They tried pulling the time-soaked wood out, but that just sent me forward in time forty-five minutes. I almost missed Luna. Whenever they tried to do anything to cancel it, it just bounced me around, and if you don't like it, just think how sick of it I am!"

The first Harry settled back into a duelling stance, his eyes alert. There was a BANG; the third Harry yelled and vanished, as Tonks Apparated into the hallway. Dudley yelled and ran for it.

"Oh," said the one remaining Harry, relaxing, "I was wondering what that was."

"Not even on shift for an hour," Tonks muttered, then, with more concern, "Are you alright? I heard shouting. Hey, we have matching hats."

She had foregone her usual casual attire for a long coat and a fedora, which was rather drier than Harry's.

"I felt sort of conspicuous in this neighbourhood," she said, correctly reading Harry's look.

"_Get out of my house!_" Vernon spat. Petunia, draped in a dressing gown, poked her head out of her room, then immediately ducked back in. She'd never liked Tonks much.

"And yet you kept the hair?" Harry asked, ignoring his uncle and indicating the bright pink mass under Tonks' hat.

"I like the hair," Tonks said.

(Above the road of the opposite side of the block, another Harry Potter appeared from thin air, moving at ten miles an hour. He promptly fell and ploughed into the road, skinning his hands and face and breaking his glasses.)

"Why do I even still have a guard?" asked Harry. "Dumbledore won, didn't he?"

"We won the battle, sure," Tonks said, "captured the big guy and my psycho aunt and the others, but You-Know-Who had more than a dozen Death Eaters last time. Dumbledore reckons some of them might try to kidnap you, try to offer you in exchange for Him. So, what's up?"

"He's exposing me and my family to your kind's weirdness, and I won't have it any more!" Vernon declared. "We only took him in on condition that we would never have to put up with any of that nonsense in our own home. I should have thrown you out on your ear two years ago, but now –"

Tonks drew her wand. He shut up.

"Don't shout," she said. "Madam Pomfrey said that stress would worsen his condition."

"Oh, really," said Harry. "Stress, she says. Good thing I'm not doing anything stressful like being thrown back and forth through time around this lot, am I?"

"Oh, is that what it is?" Tonks asked, interested. "Dumbledore's trying to keep a lid on your condition, something about a power You-Know-Who doesn't know about, he didn't even tell me. D'you think you could use it to bet on Quidditch?"

"That's cheating," Harry said, waving his pyjama bottoms in indignation.

"Bookies make more than Aurors do," Tonks said, slightly bitterly, "and they're not the ones risking their butts against Dark wizards."

"Can we please focus?" Harry asked.

"Right. Sorry. Dursley, we're still watching him. Let him alone."

"Actually, I was thinking about Madam Pomfrey," said Harry. "An actual nurse thinks it's unhealthy for me to be here; I need to be somewhere relaxing. Couldn't you lobby Dumbledore to let me stay at the Burrow for the entire summer?"

"I can try, but he doesn't take a lot of advice from twenty-two-year-olds," said Tonks. "Don't you need to stay here, as part of a blood ward deal?"

"Protecting me from what, Voldemort?" Harry asked; Tonks flinched. "Dumbledore has him locked up somewhere."

"But he doesn't have all his followers," said Tonks, "and, frankly, they're probably more threatening. There was only ever one You-Know-Who, but dozens of Bellatrixes."

"Look, it doesn't matter whether Dark wizards can't off me if I time-Splinch myself or get stuck in the middle ages or something."

"Is that even possible?" Tonks asked. "You've never been missing long and don't look much older, so I'm guessing you haven't gone more than a day or so at a time in either direction."

In fact he hadn't gone more than a few hours either way, but no need to tell her that. "How am I supposed to know what's possible?" he asked instead. "No-one's ever had temporitis before; maybe the jumps get bigger the more of them you have."

Tonks frowned. "Well … I guess I can try."

"Yes!" Vernon said. "Tell that old fool to take him out of here. Can you go now?"

She span her wand around her fingers, trying to look like a deadly wandslinger, but rather spoiled the effect by dropping it. She snatched at the wand and fumbled it; Harry caught it and handed it back before Vernon could get any ideas. She cleared her throat and continued as though nothing had happened.

"Dumbledore's been busy lately," she said. "He disappears for days at a time."

"Well, ask him when you see him," Harry said. "In the meantime, I'll write letters to –" He glanced over his shoulder for Hedwig's cage, but it was gone. In fact, all his worldly possessions except the clothes on his back and in his arms were gone. "So they're missing already … must have been before I woke up. Tonks, would you mind Apparating over to the Burrow and asking them if they'd mind if I came to stay earlier than we'd planned?"

"I'm supposed to be standing watch," said Tonks.

"Oh, we can do that for you," Vernon offered. She gave him a withering look.

"Look, if Dumbledore agrees it's safer with the Weasleys than with your blood wards, that's one thing, but a good soldier doesn't abandon her post without orders," she said.

Dudley's surprised shout came up to them from downstairs. "Potter, what have you done to your _face?_"

Tonks gave Harry a look. He shrugged.

A moment later, a fourth Harry trudged up the stairs and into view, Dudley behind him. Dudley was right: he looked as though he'd picked a fight with an angry piece of sandpaper, and lost. He was in the same robes and hat, except that both were badly torn and scraped; his glasses were cracked and missing a lens.

"So …" said the first Harry.

"Don't ask," the fourth said wearily. "Tonks, could you please mend these?" he asked, indicating his glasses.

"_Reparo_. _Episkey_, too." The lens re-formed, the frame straightened itself out, and the cuts scabbed over. "Seriously, though, what happened? Or will happen, or whatever."

"Something which only seemed like a good idea at the time because the Weasleys hadn't agreed to take me in yet," said the fourth Harry.

His past self could tell that he was choosing his words very carefully, but Tonks must have missed it because she threw up her hands and said, "Okay, okay! I'll go and ask them. Just, don't run off or anything while I'm gone." There was another BANG and she was at the Burrow.

Fleur Delacour was sitting on a deck chair out the front of the Burrow, reading a novel and getting some sun. She wore a short skirt and shirt and a wide sunhat, managing to look quite cosmopolitan when another girl would have looked trashy. She looked up and half a dozen chickens scattered, clucking in a panic at Tonks' loud Apparition.

"'Allo, Tonks," she said with a smile. The two women had got along well, which was rare for Fleur, as in her experience most women were instinctively hostile toward Veela. "What breengs you here?"

"Harry's been having … issues," said Tonks. She'd have liked to commiserate with Fleur, but there wasn't really time, not while she was away from her post. "I hoped Mrs Weasley might help."

Fleur's nostrils flared very slightly. "She's making – ah – breakfast, inside," she said. Her opinions on British breakfasts were well-known among the Order.

Tonks nodded and walked to the door. As she reached it, there was a muffled explosion from inside, and maniacal laughter. Tonks and Fleur exchanged glances and tilted their heads to eavesdrop.

"_Put it wight!"_ came Ginny's voice, with an uncharacteristic lisp. There was more laughter and the thumps of running feet. _"Wespehtilimucus!"_

Either Fred or George howled with laughter, and then pain.

"_Fred, how many times have I told you, not in the house!"_ shouted Mrs Weasley.

"Zhe children are so spirited, aren't zhey?" Fleur said idly, clearly enjoying Mrs Weasley's irritation, and picking her book back up. "Gabrielle would never be so common."

"_I didn't – Mum, look, she's still hitting me –"_

"_PUT IT WIGHT!"_

Tonks considered this, tried to reconcile it with the notion of 'relaxing', and failed. She tentatively knocked on the door.

"_I'd better get that –"_

"_YOU'LL DO NO SUCH THING UNTIL YOU REVERSE THAT – REPTILE ROCKY ROAD OR WHATEVER NONSENSE IT IS YOU'VE FED YOUR SISTER!"_

"_Rocky road – that's brilliant, we haven't done anything at all with ice cream –"_

There was a padding sound, almost drowned out by the continuing noise from the living room, and Ron Weasley opened the door, looking sleepy and harried, his hair as messy as Harry's.

"Wotcher," said Tonks.

"Tonks?" Ron yawned. "'Lo. How's it going? Morning, Fleur."

"Morning," Fleur said idly, engrossed in her novel.

"Is … is that normal, for the Burrow?" Tonks asked. She could see what might have been Ginny, had she taken Gillyweed and tried to perform an Animagus transformation at the same time, still furiously punching Fred, who was curled up in a foetal position, and Mrs Weasley shouting at both.

Ron glanced over his shoulder. "Well … it's only been two days. Fred and George've been a bit more lively than usual. I think freedom's gone to their heads a bit, you know, now that they've moved out. They're only staying for a few days. What's up?"

Tonks mentally tallied the twins, a Veela, and Mrs Weasley, and made a judgement call.

"I need to talk to Hermione, but I don't have her address," said Tonks. "I thought one of you might." Fleur gave her a sideways look but said nothing.

"Yeah, come on in," said Ron. He led her upstairs, to his room. "She made me and Harry write it down back when she still thought owls needed complete addresses. I've still got it here somewhere –"

They rifled around through notebooks and loose stacks of parchment for a few minutes, until Tonks pulled out her wand in frustration. "_Accio Hermione's address._" A loose scrap of parchment zoomed into her hand.

"Just a few more months," Ron said enviously, of her using magic.

"I remember the feeling," said Tonks. "Just make sure you don't go _too_ wild once you do. I got a warning when I did. Thanks. Take care." And she Disapparated.

Hermione lived in the heart of London on the sixth floor of a skyscraper. When Tonks pressed their doorbell, there was a scuffle and Hermione answered the door, wearing a medium blue dressing gown.

"Hi, Hermione," said Tonks, and they hugged. "How's it going?"

Hermione shrugged and smiled.

"Can't you talk?"

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a spiral-bound notepad. She flipped to the second page and showed it to Tonks. It was covered with disjointed sentences; the one beside Hermione's finger read _Some idiot from school fed me a topically-applied potion which paralysed my vocal folds._ Directly under it were _Madam Pomfrey estimates four months._ and _No, not Ron._

"… I see," said Tonks. "So if, purely hypothetically, Harry couldn't stay at the Dursleys for the summer, you wouldn't be the best person to ask to put him up."

Hermione produced a ballpoint pen and wrote on a fresh page: _I'm not really mad, but I thought he preferred staying with Ron?_

"They're kind of low on room, now that Fleur's moved in and Bill's back," Tonks lied.

Hermione nodded. _Better not put him with Fleur, no. Teenage boy + nubile Veela = problems. We don't have any spare bedrooms, and I'm not sure what my parents would think. I could probably talk them into letting him sleep on a couch, but that's not really ideal. Maybe you could try Neville or Luna? They were there at the Ministry; I can't imagine either of them turning him away. What's wrong?_

"The Dursleys are just being pests again," Tonks sighed. "I'd better go back and see if I can't smooth things over. I'll see you again soon, okay?"

Hermione waved goodbye, and Tonks Disapparated again.

Vernon seemed to have gone off, possibly to eat breakfast, leaving both Harrys arguing with Petunia now. Her rage redoubled when Tonks appeared.

"You people have _no right!_" she shouted. "We never agreed to let a _menagerie_ of your lot meandering through here at all hours! How dare you bring your foul rubbish into our home!"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Harry, Ron and Hermione aren't really available right now."

"I still don't see why I can't stay at Grimmauld Place," he said, frowning. "It's my godfather's place."

"Yes, but he's not actually living there right now," Tonks said delicately. Harry had been in a state ever since they'd found out what happened to Sirius, despite everyone telling him that fretting wouldn't help Sirius' chances. "Besides, that wouldn't be very relaxing, either, would it, not with that blasted painting raising the roof every time anyone opens the front door."

"It's still a sight better than here," he said stubbornly, politely not mentioning that it only went off whenever a certain clumsy someone knocked the curtains free.

"Excuse me? Harry?"

They turned. Luna Lovegood's head was floating toward them. The first Harry did a double take, before realising she must be under an Invisibility Cloak; the fourth one winced and sank his head into his hands.

"Here we go," he said with resignation.

Petunia completely lost it. She gave a shriek, tugged at her hair, rushed into Harry's room, grabbed Dudley's bucket, and hurled it at Luna.

Luna gave a squeal of surprise, staggered back and raised her arms to protect her face, the Cloak sliding up to her elbows. When the bucket hit, there was a flash of accidental magic, and the gallon of water multiplied a hundred thousandfold. A tidal wave shot out in all directions, knocked everyone off their feet, and blew out all the windows and doors.

The water took a minute to drain out into the first storey. Petunia had apparently been washed into the ground floor. Tonks was lying in Harry's room, coughing up water. Both Harrys were gone to other points in time. Luna was soaked but, being the epicentre of the magic, had kept her footing.

"Oh," she said, looking around. "I'm so sorry; my accidental magic's been acting up a bit lately." Specifically, since she was hit by the Cruciatus. Madam Pomfrey had suggested that she would recover on her own well before the next school year.

Tonks spat out a final mouthful of water. Her hat had been knocked off and she couldn't see it. "Don't mention it. Do you know where he's gone?"

They'd only spoken briefly, at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, and Luna had only a vague notion that Tonks was an Auror somehow involved in fighting Voldemort. Tonks had evaded or offered half-truths to her questions about her exact role and why she was there with so many non-Aurors. She was sure Luna mustn't have believed all of it, but she hadn't pressed the matter.

Luna wrung out her hair, took off the Invisibility Cloak and tied it around her waist. Underneath, she wore a yellow summer skirt with a riding slit and a thin white buttoned shirt, both clinging to her skin, and a rucksack. "Harry's going to be here again sooner or later," she said. "Are you looking for him, too? Is this something to do with the fight at the Ministry?"

"I guess, sort of," said Tonks. "But this is ridiculous. It's only been two days. I'm going to find Dumbledore. You're part of Dumbledore's Army, aren't you, and you've got that Cloak. Are you going to wait for Harry?"

Luna went into Harry's room and tilted his desk over, so that the residual droplets of water ran off and onto the already-saturated carpet. Then she pulled his bronze robes out of her pack and laid them on the table. "Yes. I'll take care of him, if you need me to."

"Thanks, Luna," said Tonks. "Stay safe." She gave the girl a hug, disengaged and Disapparated.

"Of course, taking care of him here might be difficult, with the Dursleys around," Luna added as though thinking out loud. She began humming and looking around. The house normally had a few paintings on the walls, but they had all been knocked off by the flash flood; she knelt down to look at a photo of a sunset. "Fa re do, fa re do, fa re do re do …"

The scabbed-over Harry appeared behind her, water running off his body. "Luna?"

She turned around and gave a small smile. "Hello again, Harry. I'm taking my medicine and feeling better, thank you. I'm terribly sorry about the water."

"Don't mention it," said Harry. "I'm fine, no harm done."

"Did you know your front door was open?" Luna added.

"I left it like that so I wouldn't need a key," Harry said. "Are you alright? I just saw Aunt Petunia chuck a bucket at you."

"It's nothing," she said, her smile widening at his concern. "I got here as quickly as I could. Daddy says it'll be fine for you to stay for a while, the entire summer if you'd like, and he'd love to meet one of my new friends. Shall we go?"

"Er, actually," said Harry, "right after I sent Hedwig, I tried taking the Knight Bus. It didn't work. I don't think it would be a good idea for me to try Apparition or Portkeys, and I think this place is blacklisted from the Floo Network since this one time when Arthur Weasley blew the fireplace in half."

"Don't worry; we won't be using any of those," said Luna. She took his hand and led him downstairs and out the back door. Waiting there was a saddled Thestral, going through the bins, which had been knocked over.

"…" said Harry. "You – you just happened to have a Thestral handy."

"Don't you recognise him?" Luna asked. "He's the one I rode to the Ministry. I asked him to come and visit me during the holidays while we were flying down there. I was so pleased when he came."

The saddle had the unnaturally smooth appearance of a conjured object, but it was woven with flowers, feathers, and multicoloured paperclips.

"Did you make this?" Harry asked.

"Daddy Transfigured it out of an old coat we had lying around, actually, but I decorated it. I don't want either of them to think I don't care."

"Does he have a name?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Luna, "Xenophilius Lovegood."

"I meant the Thestral."

"Oh. I don't know," Luna admitted. "I asked him, but he didn't say anything. I thought he might talk like Glipples do, but no luck."

"Is this legal?" Harry asked, leaving Glipples to ones side for the time being. "I know it's not the first time we've flown Thestrals across densely populated cities, but last time it was at least night."

"Daddy put an aversion charm on him; Muggles won't see him," Luna said. "But no, you're right," she added seriously, and untied the cloak from her waist. On closer inspection, Harry realised it was his. "We'll have to wear this. If you sit in front and wear it back-to-front, it won't blow off and show our legs."

"Brilliant," said Harry. He gave her a hand up to the Thestral's back. "By the way, Luna, is that my Invisibility Cloak? And whose robes are these?"

"Yes; the Knight Bus dropped it off with some other clothes just after you arrived at my home," she said, helping him up in turn. Her limbs were long and slim, but surprisingly strong. "And those are Daddy's. He made them so that snakes would stop biting him; it's made of real metal, you know, and enchanted. I'll explain on the way." She turned to the Thestral. "Could we go back home now, please?"

There was a pause, and the monstrous horse shot straight up into the air.

… … …

At a quarter past eleven, Harry Potter, still in his pyjamas, appeared in the hallway outside his room, in mid-jump, startled from a sudden BANG from directly behind him. He looked around and saw the angle of sunlight and how soggy everything was; the source of the noise was long gone. Hmm.

He went into his room to change clothes, but they were all gone. The only clothing in the room were some odd bronze robes laid out on his desk and a wet, rumpled fedora under the bed. Lacking another option other than staying in his pyjamas, his changed into the robes and, on a whim, sat the hat on his head.

He sat on his bed and jumped to his feet as water seeped into the seat of his pants, so he stood and leant against a wall, trying to organise his thoughts about the argument he'd just left and to decide whether it would be acceptable for him to have breakfast now. The Dursleys probably wouldn't like it, and explaining was unlikely to be a good idea.

There came footsteps from outside. He walked out to find Petunia Dursley, laying sponges along the floor and looking at them with a frown, wondering whether there wasn't a better way to soak up this much water. A broom leant against the wall beside her.

"Hello, Aunt Petunia," Harry began, and that was as far as he got before she snatched up the broom and began beating him with it.

"This is all your fault!" she cried. "You and your freak witch friend! Melting was too good for her! Why haven't you left yet? You have some nerve, sticking around after you made that mess!"

"Ow!" Harry said, throwing his hands up to ward off the broom. "Ow! What happened? Why are you hitting me –"

Her broom swished through empty air.


End file.
